Iris
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Echo, by Francesca Lia Block . A small glimpse of what Storm and Echo's life with their child might be like.


Iris

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Echo

Copyright: Francesca Lia Block

_Then Storm gave Echo (...) a child who would never doubt. Who would know that magic is belief and who would believe._

_- p. 215_

Echo rolled and unrolled the program in her hands, shifting uncomfortably in her hard plastic seat and wishing very much to get it over with. Her husband gave her an amused, exasperated look from behind his round glasses, taking her hand so she wouldn't damage the program to their daughter's talent show. _Relax,_ he said, in his wordless way.

The host, their music teacher, plucked at his white bow tie and strode onto the stage with his portable microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, a round of applause please for our next performers: Miss Iris Storm and Mr. Angelo Branduardi!"

The chattering voices in the auditorium fell into a hush as the worn red curtains were pulled aside. The stage was dark. With an audible click, a single spotlight switched on, illuminating two figures at the center of the stage. The music began – an accordeon, the notes winding up high, quivering with tension.

The two performers were a black-haired boy in a tuxedo and a girl in a short, ruffled red dress, wearing a red silk rose in her brown curls. They were locked together in a tango position, looking deep into each other's eyes as if the audience did not exist.

Then they glided into motion. _Slow – slow – quick, quick, slow._ Her curls flew as he dipped her low and whirled her around. Her black high heels twinkled as she kicked up one leg. They were as sleek and wild as a pair of panthers on the prowl, with a sense of smoldering fires tightly controlled. They flew apart, spun together, circled each other like combatants or lovers.

Echo could feel every step Iris made as if her own feet were taking them. Hadn't she seen her practice hundreds of times? _See, Iris, didn't I tell you you'd be brilliant? I was right!_

And she could feel it – the emotions of the audience, love and pain and grief and longing, streaming away like sunset clouds to leave a trail of light around Iris as she danced. It was Echo's own gift, tempered and polished, to shine in the body of her rainbow goddess daughter.

And then it ended in a spectacular dip, Iris's hair cascading almost to the floor, and they froze like a photograph for one endless moment as the last drumbeat of the song trembled in the air.

Then they straightened and took a bow, holding hands, their faces relaxed into delighted grins. Just a pair of seventeen-year-olds at their high school talent show.

Echo and Storm clapped and clapped until their hands tingled. Iris blew a laughing kiss in their direction and, still holding Angelo's hand, scampered off backstage.

Later at the end of the show, as Echo and Storm were getting into their coats, Iris came rushing up to them in her jeans and white blouse and gave them a hug.

"Darling, you were beautiful!" Echo exclaimed. "Wait 'till we show Grandma the video! You got it all on camera, didn't you?" to her husband, who held up the camera with a nod.

"Well done, Iris," he said, warm pride and affection turning the commonplace words into one of the sweetest compliments a girl could receive. He handed her the flower he'd been carrying wrapped in paper – a single white iris – and she sniffed it in delight.

"Aww, Mom...Dad...thank you so much!" she said, kissing them both on the cheeks. "I was so nervous at first, like you wouldn't believe – I thought, one look at all those people staring and I'll just shrivel up! But then I just remembered...you know – if my parents and Angelo believe I can do it, why shouldn't I?"

"Magic is belief," Echo said softly, exchanging a glance with her husband as they recalled the memories of their first meeting. "That's right."

Iris smiled. "I think I made Mr. Branduardi feel a bit better," she confided. "Angelo's dad? He's worried about his business failing. I saw it," tapping her head. "You know, here."

For a moment, Echo saw the shadow of other things in her daughter's hazel eyes – ugly things she saw in her dancing visions. They would speak of this later; instead Echo stroked her daughter's hair to smooth away the uneasiness.

Suddenly Iris's smile returned; she waved to someone over Echo's shoulder. "Hey – Mom, Dad? Some of my friends are going out for coffee now – can I come? I'll get home later by the subway, okay?"

"Oh, sure. But don't stay out after dark again, okay?" Echo warned.

Iris waved over her shoulder as she dashed away, holding her flower in one hand, to join Angelo and a laughing swarm of other young people. Echo watched her go rather wistfully, shaking her head.

Storm raised an inquiring eyebrow; she shrugged.

"Oh, it's just...sometimes I can hardly believe she's our daughter," Echo confided. "I was never like that as a child. So...bright and so confident. And then when she dances, it all comes back to me...how I was as a teenager, half crazy with loneliness, watching my perfect angel mother and knowing I'd never be like her."

"You're hardly a perfect angel, my dear," said Storm, with a lopsided smile.

Echo swatted his arm and laughed. "Thank God for that!"


End file.
